


Dolce, Affettuoso

by philatos



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Music, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanboy Katsuki Yuuri, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Musician Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit is an A grade friend, Pining, References to Depression, Romance, Violinist Katsuki Yuuri, lots of ramen, violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philatos/pseuds/philatos
Summary: Watching him skate… Yuuri couldn’t remember ever feeling the way he did while Victor glided along the ice, eyes cast above to the heavens, long hair trailing behind him like a river of molten silver, hands reaching out for something nameless that seemed just beyond his reach. He remembered being 12, still in love with the ice, wanting nothing more than to spend his future on it, before his traitorous body pushed it forever out of reach. But even as those memories were tainted by the bitterness of life’s cruelty, he could still remember the indescribable feeling in his chest the moment he saw Victor Nikiforov step out onto the ice for the first time. The way what felt like every single fibre of his being lit up, enraptured by the figure clad in black that flew across the ice like he was born to be on it.It was hardly surprising that his unchecked hero worship grew into something bordering on an obsession. Skating was his life, and with Victor and skating being almost one in the same, it was inevitable that Victor soon became his life. But years later, even after skating was ripped away from him, Victor remained, still as bright and distant as before.





	Dolce, Affettuoso

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was based on a prompt I got in my Tumblr AGES ago that went:
> 
> ' _I have a fic request for Yuri on Ice if you would be interested. Maybe this is a silly idea but i thought that maybe instead of Yuuri ice skating he became a composer? Still went to Detroit and roomed with Pitchit but he studied music and somehow anonymously starts composing the music for Victor's skating routines, he's still a fan of ice skating and Victor. He composes Stammi Vicinio because he perfectly understands how Victor feels. Don't know how the love story unfurls but it does somehow._ '
> 
> Im so sorry about only writing it literally a year later but I really hope it's worth it!
> 
> Anyways, here's my Fluff Bang entry! I had the pleasure of working with the lovely artist @[Foxpirate](https://twitter.com/FoxpirateAce) who made the beautiful piece below! This fic was a nice break from my usual Dark Vic horniness and it was refreshing to remember how much these boys really love each other (@MAPPA drop the PV PLEASE)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
>  

 

 

 

 

Alone in his dorm, Yuuri pulled his duvet around him, craving its comfort as he sat on his hard desk chair, laptop screen bright in front of him. His practice sheets lay scattered around his desk, momentarily abandoned. As much as he knew he should take advantage of the fact that his roommate was out  to practice, he couldn’t bring himself to even pick up his bow. Instead, his calloused fingers moved over his keyboard, muscle memory guiding them as he brought up one of the many videos he’d almost committed to memory by now.

_ ‘Victor Nikiforov (RUS) - Gold Medal I Men’s Figure Skating I Free Programme | GPF Sochi 2012’ _

Hitting play, Yuuri watched, just as transfixed as he was when he streamed it from his bedroom in Hasetsu, watching the grainy footage with the reverence of a priest before an altar. It was no surprise that Victor had once again snatched the gold out from under everyone else's feet, miles ahead of them in both skill and beauty. If he hadn’t won, Yuuri would have probably thrown his already creaky laptop across the room in rage.

This time around he was dressed in way that made him look like he’d been plucked from a fairytale. A blood red coat, collared and cuffed, embellished with golden buttons and epaulettes, clung to his torso, making him look for all the world like a prince, simply missing his crown. His legs were clad in black, the fabric showing off the muscles and definition of his thighs so freely, Yuuri was both thankful for the gift and furious that the rest of the world could see him like this too. His hair was pulled back, tied in a tight ponytail that flew behind him as he skated to the middle of the rink, face cast down as he assumed his starting position.        

And then, as the music played, he came  _ alive _ .

Watching him skate… Yuuri couldn’t remember ever feeling the way he did while Victor glided along the ice, eyes cast above to the heavens, long hair trailing behind him like a river of molten silver, hands reaching out for something nameless that seemed just beyond his reach. He remembered being 12, still in love with the ice, wanting nothing more than to spend his future on it, before his traitorous body pushed it forever out of reach. But even as those memories were tainted by the bitterness of life’s cruelty, he could still remember the indescribable feeling in his chest the moment he saw Victor Nikiforov step out onto the ice for the first time. The way what felt like every single fibre of his being lit up, enraptured by the figure clad in black that flew across the ice like he was born to be on it.

It was hardly surprising that his unchecked hero worship grew into something bordering on an obsession. Skating was his life, and with Victor and skating being almost one in the same, it was inevitable that  _ Victor _ soon became his life. But years later, even after skating was ripped away from him, Victor remained, still as bright and distant as before.

His heart  _ ached.  _ That was really the only way he could even begin to express how he felt now. It was beyond stupid to even think about at times. He’d never even met the man, after all. What was he to him but just another face in the crowd? Not even a potential competitor anymore, but just a fan, lost in a sea of thousands. But all the logic in the world couldn’t change the fact that no matter how hard he tried to stop it, he found himself being drawn back into the galaxy that was Victor Nikiforov every single time.

He’d never admit it to anyone, rarely even to himself. But he couldn’t deny the simple fact that he loved him, at least as much as someone could love someone else from afar. And deep within his heart, he found himself entertaining the wildest of fantasies, where they were really star crossed lovers given a second chance and reborn anew into the world, flung apart from each other once more, only for destiny to draw them together when the time was right.

Maybe his schoolboy fantasies would have been somewhat acceptable back when he was 14, but not anymore. Of course, if anyone asked back then, all he said was his usual line about skating on the same ice as his idol one day. He kept the rest of his dreams locked away in his heart, only bringing them out on nights when he sleep would not find him.

But now… even that was an impossibility.

He had been 15 and like many his age, he’d been far too stubborn for his own good. During a particularly grueling practice session, he’d attempted one too many jumps  and fell hard on the ice. Normally he’d simply dust the ice chips off and get back up but this time he screamed,clutching his knee in pain. His coach had ordered him off the ice immediately and he’d been to countless doctor’s appointments. At first there was hope that the injury would heal itself with time, but as the months passed, that hope was soon snuffed out like a candle in a blizzard. He could skate but jumps and anything like that were out of the question. He’d never be able to compete again. 

With the loss of what had made up such a huge part of his life for years upon years, Yuuri found himself taking solace in another love of his, albeit a less fiery one. He’d dabbled in music throughout his youth, mostly from his school’s dust covered music room. While the piano came easy to him, it was the violin that really captivated the heart of 8 year old Yuuri Katsuki. It proved much more difficult than any of the other instruments he tried but Yuuri was nothing if not resilient. After school and even inbetween classes, he found himself picking up the slightly too big instrument, listening attentively as his sensei patiently instructed him day after day.

Unfortunately, as skating alone was already a heavy burden on the Katsuki’s finances, the chance of violin lessons on top of that was an impossibility, much less his own violin. He didn’t mind too much, satisfied with channeling all his passion on the ice, occasionally sneaking into Hasetsu’s only music store to longingly look at the Stentor on display there.

To his surprise, on his 13th birthday his parents presented him with a violin. While not as shiny and slightly more battered than the one in the store, Yuuri had almost cried as he held it in his arms, cradling it as if it were a newborn. He wasted no time, immediately setting it up and printing some simple scale exercises that very same night.

After his injury, when he felt his world crash down on him in slow motion, music was what got him through it all. He spent days alone in his room, blisters forming on his fingers as he played and played, his emotions pouring out of him as he screamed and cried and damned the universe for snatching his dreams away from him and damned himself for letting it.

But it was through music that healing came, slowly, softly but surely. His notes, while still tinged with sadness, became gentler, his chords free of the jagged rage that used to flow through them. Through the pain blossomed a new dream, one that he set himself on with fervor.

And that was how he ended up where he was. Managing to snatch a music scholarship in Detroit, Yuuri moved there for university. To his surprise, his roommate turned out to be a figure skater, training at the nearby rink while also getting his degree. Their shared interests and the fact that Phichit seemed to have adopted him as his resident Shut in Introvert TM  , resulted in the two becoming fast friends. Phichit was a godsend, frequently dragging Yuuri out of their dorm whenever he got in one of his moods. Yuuri would complain but he knew Phi had his best interests at heart and could never really be mad at him. But on the days when Yuuri’s mind really got the best of him, he’d always be there, armed with a day’s worth of Ben & Jerry’s and trashy rom coms for them to cry over.

And to top it off, Phichit was generous enough to sneak him into the Detroit rink after closing when he felt like getting in some late night practice. At first Yuuri had refused, not wanting jealousy to form after seeing Phi easily fly across the ice the way he used to do. But eventually his own need to be back on it won out and he began accompanying him every week or so. Although jumps were out of the question, Yuuri could still skate just fine, even managing to perform one of his favorite step sequences from his youth. Phichit had gushed about it for hours afterwards, begging Yuuri to give him some tips in exchange for the rink time. Though initially hesitant he soon agreed and he had to admit, watching Phi recreate his moves made his heart ache but in a good way.

But even with all this, Yuuri still couldn’t divorce his relationship with the ice, with that of Victor. No matter what, he always found himself coming back to him, like a magnet to metal. Watching him glide across his screen for what was surely the thousandth time, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness. The feeling was not unfamiliar to him, not at all, but this time it came from the man behind the screen. That wasn’t surprising, considering the routine he skated to told the story of a man trying to win back the heart of his spurned love, full of desperate promise, undercut with the deep emptiness that he felt with their loss. But not for the first time, Yuuri wondered. Was there a reason Victor chose to skate to such a song? It was stupid to even think about. The man was at the peak of his figure skating career, surrounded by fans left and right, already a record breaking world champion at the age of 25. How could he possibly be lonely?

And yet, Yuuri felt it. Wishful thinking or not, he couldn’t deny the familiar look in Victor’s eyes that appeared occasionally on the ice and in the odd interview or two. Familiar because Yuuri recognized it whenever he looked in a mirror and saw the aching loneliness he’d been carrying for so long, reflected back on it.

Of course, there was the very real possibility that he was simply projecting his own issues onto his longtime idol, looking for similarities, no matter how absurd, that just weren’t there in hopes of linking them together.

But at the same time he couldn’t help but believe it, as silly as it seemed. What he’d give to be able to reach out to him and pull him near. To hold him close and tell him,  I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you and I  _ understand _ .

That's all he wanted to say to him and it killed him that he couldn’t.

Feeling an uncomfortable pressure behind his eyes, he paused the video, freezing Victor mid jump. Sighing, he took a few deep breaths to compose himself. Crying over something that wasn't even real and would never be was beyond pathetic. Maybe there really was something wrong with him? Hero worship was one thing, but loving a man he’d never even met with such fervor, feeling like his heart was about to consume itself every time the silver haired man flitted through his mind with the ease he did on the ice… this was way beyond that.

Love was something he craved in secret. He rarely brought it up of his own volition, shrugging off the occasional prying question from Phichit with a strained smile and some vague excuse that he just wasn’t interested in that kind of thing.

The reality was markedly different. Love was something that always seemed to dangle in front of him teasingly, just out of reach. Growing up, he devoured love stories illuminated by torchlight under his blanket in the dead of night, crying his eyes out when the two star crossed lovers finally defied fate and found each other against all odds. Perhaps unconsciously, he made the mistake of forming expectations that should never have been formed in the first place. He began hoping, wishing, dreaming that someday his turn would come and he’d finally get to experience the thing all his books and shows talked about with such ardor.

But the years passed and… nothing. Not even a hint of it ever showed up as he grew older, passing through high school without any fanfare.That wasn’t an issue in itself, but seeing the people he grew up with all slowly begin to carve out their own experiences in the field of romance, all while he waited with nothing but hope and expectation in his heart slowly began to slake away at his already fragile self esteem.

And to put it bluntly, it fucking hurt.

He told himself not to care, to focus on the ultimate end goal of ending up on the same ice as Victor. But of course those dreams were dashed soon enough sending Yuuri into a spiralling pit of depression as he struggled to pick up the pieces of his life. Victor, a gold medal, a career on the ice… it all seemed so far away even then, a pipe dream that Yuuri had clung on to with bleeding fingers. But now even that was gone, blown away like a wisp of smoke in a breeze.

He shook his head, clearing those thoughts from his mind. There was no point in dwelling on the past now. His future lay in music and it was time to focus. Graduation was rapidly approaching, with time slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass with each passing day. Now was not the time to get carried away with silly little fantasies. Not when he had music to write.

Dragging forward a slightly crumpled practice sheet, he looked at the blank page, hoping for a sudden blast of inspiration. After about five minutes of silence he groaned in frustration, burying his head in his hands. He was so fucked. How was he going to write anything with Victor’s golden blades flashing through his mind at every turn? Sighing, he turned back to the video, where Victor was still frozen on screen. Figuring that he might as well finish his routine, he pressed play once more.

The crowd cheered as Victor landed his quad axel with ease, looking like he barely broke a sweat. That was the last quad of his program before his signature quadruple flip. Even though he was sure Victor was exhausted, his face betrayed no signs of it, looking for all the world like a lost prince, aching for his heart’s true desire whatever that might be. The way he moved, the fluid motions of his limbs, the mask he seemed to have on in place of his heart… Yuuri’s pencil moved across his manuscript paper, a melody forming in his mind. He’d long since learned that if inspiration ever struck, he had to act quickly before it dissipated into mist again.

Picking up his violin, he placed the instrument under his chin before gently running his bow across the worn strings, testing out the notes that he’d scribbled. How would Victor skate to this, he wondered? The melody he envisioned was powerful, filled with the longing that he’d never be able to describe with words, calling desperately for someone to answer. He could see it in his mind’s eye, Victor dressed in his usual princely attire, beautiful blue eyes now filled with the sadness he’d only glimpsed here and there through a grainy screen. His hair, no longer the river of moonlight it had been before, now cut short, fringe hiding his eyes from view. When the news had broken, Yuuri like the rest of Victor’s fanbase had been horrified. He could clearly remember crying real tears when it was confirmed that it hadn’t been some kind of terrible hoax and that Victor Nikiforov had in fact snipped off his beautiful long hair. In the following interviews his answer had been always the same. “Just needed a change?” he’d say, followed by a smile that to the world looked charming and self assured but all Yuuri saw was how empty it really was. He couldn’t help but wonder if one night when everything just felt like  _ too much _ and it hurt to even breathe, Victor had looked in the mirror and picked up the pair of scissors himself.

The notes got heavier, weighed down by the pain he was carrying. Did the sharp bite of sorrow plague him, as did the ache of loneliness? Did he wake up crying some nights feeling like the only person left in the world, his heart pierced by shards of ice? Maybe that’s why his routines were the way they were. Perfect, but in the way a snow covered landscape was, with each movement feeling like a gust of icy wind in a blizzard.

With a burst of music erupting from Yuuri’s violin, Victor jumped, landing a perfect quad axle, his expression not shifting. It was odd, almost, not hearing the roar of the crowd behind him but Yuuri remained transfixed. He barely had to think to form the notes, the music feeling so natural as Victor glided along to it, a frozen prince.

He continued, stopping momentarily to hastily scribble the notes down lest they slip away. But each time he played, Victor was always there, skating so beautifully it made Yuuri’s already fragile heart ache. What was he looking for? What did he want? He had the world at his feet, what was out of reach to someone like him? Longing permeated his movements, soft and slow, weighed down by whatever was also weighing on his heart. He knew how it felt to long for something that much, the sweet pain of it like a poison tinted kiss. 

Victor spun, his movements getting more impassioned as Yuuri’s notes got sharper. It was like watching a man at prayer, almost, with the way Victor’s eyes were cast up at the ceiling, begging for something only he knew. Tears were now falling from his eyes as he jumped, finishing a perfect quad lutz that led into  a triple toe. He circled the ice, slowing down with each rotation, finally coming to a slow halt.

With that, the music came to a stop. Victor turned and gave the muted crowd his usual bow, tears now streaming down his pale cheeks, before the scene melted away, leaving Yuuri all alone once more.

Feeling a swell of emotion push behind his eyes, he put his violin down carefully before he allowed the cresting wave to crash upon him. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he lowered his violin and bow, choked cries clawing their way up his throat. Burying his face in his hands, he let himself cry, the dam that had been holding back all his tears finally breaking at the onslaught of pure emotion he was feeling.  Sobs wracked through his shaking form, his heart feeling like it’d been freshly torn in two. And as if the heartbreak wasn’t enough, he could hear that damn voice at the back of his head sneering at him.

“ _ Why are you crying over him? ” _ it taunted.  _ “You don’t love him, how could you? You don’t even know him. And you never will either so you might as well get used to it. How could someone like him ever love someone as pathetic as you?” _

He knew it was right for the most part, but that never made it hurt any less.

As much as he wished he could talk to someone about this, to lessen the weight in his chest if nothing else, he knew he never would. This was not something he could ever explain. He himself barely understood, what more someone else entirely?

It wasn’t like he didn’t have options. Phichit had definitely seen the shadows lurking behind his eyes, and made sure to remind him that if he ever needed someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on, he was always available. And Yuuko had nailed it into his head at the airport to call her immediately if he ever needed support, no matter what time it was. And of course he had his parents and Mari too.

But… as well meaning as they all were, none of them would understand. He could imagine their reactions if he told them that he was hopelessly in love with a man he’d never met, and that he broke his heart every single day. He wouldn’t blame them for not understanding but it would probably be better if he simply kept this particular aspect of his life to himself. He couldn’t explain why, but like how Icarus was drawn to the sun, so was he to Victor. Never in his life had he ever felt this way about another person before, and right then it felt like he never would. So he let himself have his little fantasies, as a means to cope, if nothing else. 

When the worst of his sobs ebated, he took several deep breaths steadying himself. Rubbing at his puffy eyes, he sighed, wiping his face on his duvet. God, this was beyond pathetic. Maybe he should look into getting a therapist appointment or something, this was in no way healthy. He sighed, the sound oddly loud in the silence of his room. 

Looking down at his scrawled sheets, Yuuri gathered them and stacked them in a pile on his desk. He would refine and tweak them tomorrow. One good thing about the kind of pain that drove you to near madness, it did wonders for his inspiration.

Closing his laptop, he threw his duvet back on his bed and headed to the kitchen, stomach rumbling. Nothing like ultra spicy ramen after crying your eyes out on a school night. 

As he stirred the dissolving noodle block, he heard the sound of a key jiggling the lock. 

“Hey Phi,” he called out once the door opened. 

“Is that ramen? Can I have some?” said Phichit poking his head in the kitchen.

“Absolutely not, go make your own.” said Yuuri, as he pulled out another packet from the cupboard. 

“You’re the best!” he said, toeing his shoes off. “Do anything while I was gone?”

Yuuri swallowed. “Well, I guess? I’ll tell you later.”

“Fine, I’ll let you focus. Don’t want you to burn those noodles.”

In Yuuri’s defense that had only happened  _ once. _

 

* * *

 

Soon, they were seated at their tiny kitchen table, digging into steaming hot bowls of ramen.

“God,” Phichit moaned after the first mouthful. “I needed this. Honestly how is it that we’re paying a shit load of money to study here and the library manages to only stock overpriced fruit bars in the vending machine? Give me chips damnit, let me be gross!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your diet plan?”

“What Ciao ciao doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” beamed Phichit. “I suffer most of the week, I can have a cheat day now and again.”

“Right,” smiled Yuuri. And speaking of Ciao ciao...

“Phi?” he began hesitantly. “Could I have a favor? No questions asked?”

“Yes to the former, no to the latter,” quipped Phichit. “You know me better than that.”

Yuuri groaned. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Spill.”

Shooting him a look, Yuuri continued. “Ok… Well I just started working on a new piece. It’s still really rough but I think I’m finally onto something. Something good.”

“That’s great!” exclaimed Phichit. “The muses have finally answered your prayers!”

“Yeah well not quite. This piece…. it’s a skating track.”

“Oh,” he hummed. “That’s new. Have you ever played anything like this before?”

“Not really. I mean I’ve played tracks used for skating but this is different. It’s like…” he paused as he searched for a way to describe it  _ without  _ mentioning his main muse. “It’s like I can see the routine in my head, and I need to write a score to go with it.”

“Wow. Don’t think I’ve heard of anyone doing that before. But I think it’s a great idea! So, what do you need?”

Yuuri shifted. “The thing is, you could get in trouble. I wouldn’t ask you if I knew another way. You’re completely free to say no, of course,” he added hurriedly.

Phichit’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he plopped down on Yuuri’s bed. “Now you’ve got me interested,” he said, moving closer. “What do you need? A getaway driver? A man on the inside? Is this a heist? I’ve always wanted to be part of a heist!”

“Not quite,” laughed Yuuri, his friend’s enthusiasm lightening his worries.  “I was just wondering if you could sneak me into the rink after closing time for a few days.”

The other boy was silent for a moment before bursting into laughter. “That’s it? Yuuri, the way you were saying it, it felt like you needed someone to help you hide a body! Of course I can sneak you in, it’s no problem.”

“Only if it’s not too muc-“

“Yuuri it’s no problem, seriously. Ciao ciao gave me a set of keys ages ago. And if you think about it, I could get in some practice time while you’re there. Don’t worry about it, technically you’re doing me a favor here.”

Yuuri smiled. “Thanks Phi.”

Phichit waved him off. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. When do you wanna go?”

“Tomorrow maybe?”

“Wow, you don’t waste any time do you? I was hoping to come home and sleep all day but now I guess I’m gonna have to slave away on the ice for  _ hours.”  _ he sighed, dramatically slapping a hand to his forehead.

“Just remember to thank me when you’re on the Olympic podium,” said Yuuri, undeterred.

“I’ll be lucky to even make Skate America so maybe lower your expectations a little.”

“In that case, maybe we should start tonight.”

“Oh fuck off, Katsuki,” said Phichit, throwing a hamster shaped cushion at him. “I may not be physically in my pyjamas yet, but I am spiritually.”

“Aren’t you always though?”

“Mean!”  

 

* * *

 

Less than 24 hours later, Yuuri stood outside the rink, clutching at his sports bag and violin. Phichit was already inside, having told Yuuri to meet him there earlier. He’d been here a few times, mainly to support Phichit but also to watch some minor competitions. It made his heart ache fiercely at first, watching people skate with such ease, cutting through the air with fantastic jumps that had been as familiar to Yuuri as breathing. It had gotten easier with time though, coupled along with Yuuri’s stubborn insistence on supporting his friend. But even so, he always did feel a pang in his heart when he stepped into the rink, the smell of ice and sweat bringing him back to his times at the Ice Castle with Yuuko.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Yuuri pushed the door open.

Stepping inside, he quickly made his way to the rink, seeing Phichit practicing his step sequence, brow furrowed in concentration. Seeing Yuuri, he waved him over.

“You’re here!” he said, skating to the boards. “Finally!”

“And you’re this excited because?.”

“Because now I get to take a break!” said Phichit gleefully. “Totally so I won’t disturb you and definitely not because I’m beat or anything.”

“I’m sure.” smiled Yuuri wryly

“Great!” Phichit stepped off the ice and began unlacing his boots. “I’ll be around so just shout if you need me. The acoustics of this place is amazing.”

“I’ll be fine.” assured Yuuri. “Go rest!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. See you in a bit!”

Yuuri waved him off before dropping  his sports bag on the bench. Opening it, he pulled out his battered skates, inspecting the blades. They weren’t as sharp as they should be but it wasn’t like he was planning on doing anything too intense. Lacing them on with an expertise born of many such times as this, he stood, carefully making his way to the ice.

Stepping on it, he nearly slipped, his body needing some time to remember how to move on the slippery surface. Once stabilized, he skated figures idly, the silence of the rink a welcome change to the noise inside his own head. His violin lay on the bench next to his sports bag, the gleaming wood beckoning him to play. He couldn’t explain his own hesitance but it remained within him regardless, mixing with guilt to create a corrosive cocktail that ate at him slowly. Eventually though, guilt won out and he stepped off the rink, picking up the familiar instrument with trembling fingers.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped back on to the ice once more, gliding to the centre of the rink, violin and bow in hand. His breath fogged in front of him as he swallowed thickly, placing the instrument under his chin, bow at the ready.

He waited. One beat, two and…  _ three _

His eyes were shut, having no need to even look at what he was playing. All he could see was Victor, Victor, Victor. Beautiful, lonely, sad Victor, gliding across a frozen lake of sorts, dressed in the princely attire he looked so at home in. Only this time, gone were the rich reds and warm browns, the opulent golds and deep blacks. Now he was clad in white, so drained of color that his pale hair was the brightest thing about him. A crown rested on his head, made from finely worked silver, as delicate as spun sugar. His face was cast down, even as he made impossible jumps and spun across the ice as gracefully as a nymph, but in the moments where Yuuri could catch a glimpse of his face, he saw nothing but sorrow. Bright blue eyes made iridescent with the red rimming them, swimming in pools of tears that tracked down his pale cheeks. Yuuri wanted nothing more than to step forwards and wipe them away but his feet felt frozen, locked in the ice as he could do nothing but watch the somber display set before him.

He played and he played until he lost himself in the music, eyes focused only on Victor. Snow began to fall around them, a blizzard matching the saccadic notes flowing from Yuuri’s violin. Victor fell into a step sequence, his movements precise and sharp, the scrape of his skates on the ice almost audible to Yuuri. Yuuri was torn, half wanting to drop his instrument and simply watch Victor’s artistry across the frozen landscape, but the other half wanted to be part of it through his music, to lead and guide him with his violin. It was almost like the pair skates he would choreograph in his head when he was younger, imagining Victor lifting him in a waist hold, as they glided across the ice, the routine a declaration of their love for the entire world to see.

Yuuri could barely see anymore, the scene before him so crowded by snowflakes. But Victor cut through them, blades shining through the blizzard. The wind roared in his ears, his violin spitting out harsh sounds to accompany it as Victor spun and danced with it, paying no heed to his surroundings.

Yuuri let his notes get higher and faster, watching as Victor kept landing almost impossible jumps, each one sure and precise as the last. It was like watching him fight against the landscape, the sadness within him manifesting into anger that he was taking out on everything around him, until…

Until the blizzard stopped, leaving him alone and tired and even after it all, still weighed down by that same sadness and longing. He attempted another jump, only to come crashing down like a shot bird. On his hands and knees, he hit at the ice with his fists, screaming in pain and anguish as the blizzard swallowed him up once more. 

Lowering his violin, Yuuri panted, sweat dripping down his brow even through the chill of the rink. Wiping his forehead, he caught his breath, startled by the sudden burst of faint applause. 

“Yuuri!” shouted Phichit from somewhere. “That was amazing! Is that what you were working on?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Yuuri craning his head to see where he was. 

“You did that yourself? That’s crazy! I knew you were good but I didn’t know you were THAT good.”

“Thanks,” laughed Yuuri weakly. “I’m just trying something different.”

“Well whatever you’re doing, keep doing it! Also, I recorded it so you’re welcome. Also...”, he trailed off. “Can I post it online?”

Yuuri started. “Absolutely not!”

“Oh come on, pleaseeeee,” said Phichit, finally appearing on the rink from god knows where. “It’ll be good exposure! You gotta get your name out there! And I don’t think you made any mistakes or anything so I don’t see why not.”

“I don’t know, Phi,” mumbled Yuuri, skating to the boards. “This piece isn’t even finished yet.”

“I can edit the video a bit to make it more cohesive if that’s what you’re worried about.” said Phichit quickly. “And weren’t you saying that you wanted to get your name out there. This might help a bit? I think the aesthetics would definitely make you stand out. Who plays on an ice rink?”

“Ok tell you what,” said Yuuri after a pause. “I’ll think it over.”

“Yay!” exclaimed Phichit, practically jumping with excitement. “You won’t regret this!”

“I haven’t even said yes yet!”

“You will. This is a good idea Yuuri. I can feel it.”

“Yeah well all I feel is cold, so I’m gonna get some tea.” said Yuuri, stepping of the ice. “Thank god I brought my thermos. You want some?”

“Yes please!”

 

* * *

**2 weeks later.**

 

Yuuri had never gone viral before. It was… interesting to say the least. Ok so, maybe ‘viral’ was pushing it. He hadn’t been offered any obscure sponsorships, nor was he asked on Ellen yet but his view count definitely did have a lot more zeros than he’d expected. After a few days of badgering from Phichit, Yuuri finally folded and let him post it on his deserted YouTube channel. Phichit of course jumped at the chance and did so, not forgetting to share it on his own much more busy Instagram. 

Somehow the video picked up traction among the skating community and things moved forward from there. He did get a few requests to use the track for routines but Yuuri hadn’t gotten round to answering them yet. He was unsure of what to even say. ‘Sorry, but I wrote this track for the greatest skater in the world to use and not only does he not know that I exist, he’s also unaware of the fact that I’m completely in love with him, so no, I’m sorry not right now?’ 

Yeah no.

He did get a bit more attention in class now which was both good and bad. His teachers now knew he existed, which he supposed was good, except for the new atmosphere that screamed ‘I expect a lot more from you now.’ But, all in all, Yuuri was coping and that’s all he could ask for really. 

However, that slightly suffocating but mostly comfortable existence came to a crashing halt on a boring Wednesday that week. Yuuri, leaving class was surprised at the number of missed calls from Phichit he had. Worried that something bad had happened, he called him back, heart pounding.

The call was picked up before the second ring.

“Dammit Yuuri pick up your phone!” came Phichit’s voice from the other end. 

“Sorry, I was in class,” said Yuuri hurriedly. “What’s the problem?”

“Are you still at campus?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. Now are you sitting down?”

“No, Phichit what the he-”

“Victor Nikiforov is on his way over there to find you.”

Yuuri was silent for a moment as he tried to process the words that just came out of his phone. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me. Victor, as in Nikiforov, as in the dude you have plastered all over your room and the dude who is probably going to kick my ass on the ice one day, is on his way. To meet you. Like, right now.”

Yuuri frowned. “Phichit, this really isn’t funny and it’s not even April 1st so knock it off-”

“I swear to you on the lives of all my hamsters that I’m telling the truth!” yelled Phichit.  “He came in here during practice and asked for the skater who played the violin in that video! I told him you didn’t skate and that you were probably at class and he asked me where that was and took off immediately after! I didn’t even manage to take a selfie with him, he was gone so quickly. Even Ciao ciao was shocked to see him,  I don’t think anyone even knows he’s here. Twitter is silent about it and nothing’s on Insta either.

Yuuri felt his knees begin to shake and the world suddenly seemed a lot less stable than usual. Sitting down carefully, he asked, “Where… Where did you say I was?”

“I said you were probably in class but he didn’t stick around long enough for me to say more. He looked frazzled almost. Like he was distracted by something. I think he really wants to see you.”

“Phichit if this is a joke-”

“Yuuri you know I wouldn’t joke about something like this. I know how important he is to you and I would never take advantage of that. You have to believe me.”

Yuuri swallowed. This was impossible. How could Victor actually want to see him? And yet, apparently he was already on his way here? This was definitely some sort of fever dream or something. “Ok,” he croaked, voice hoarse. “I believe you. But, fuck what should I even do? Did he give you his number or anything? Where should I meet him?!” he said, voice getting more and more hysterical.

“Ok ok calm down, deep breaths.” he didn’t tell me anything but I think you should be able to send him a message on Twitter or something.

“I don’t think so. He has that on private.”

“Ah, well you’d know better than me. Ok, then maybe go wait out by the main entrance. If he’s on his way, he should end up there. But hurry, you don’t have much time!”

“Alright, I’m going!” said Yuuri, getting up and veritably sprinting there. “Thanks Phi, I’ll keep you updated.”

“You better! Good luck!”

Ending the call, Yuuri ran faster, practically flying to the main building. It was mostly empty, with a few students milling about here and there. Panting, he collapsed on a nearby bench, trying not to blackout from his embarrassing lack of cardio. 

Seeing the receptionist look at him with concern, he quickly got up and asked him,” Sorry, but were there any visitors here recently?”

Blinking at him, he replied, “Oh, yes we did have one just ten minutes ago. Russian, I think. Said he was looking for a student here but I couldn’t give out student information without a good reason so he left. I think he was headed towards the cafeteria, he did ask me where that was?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “Alright, thanks!” he said, before grabbing his bag and running once more, begging the universe for him to still be there. If THE Victor Nikiforov managed to slip through his fingers due to his shitty cardio he’d never forgive himself.

Finally making it to the cafeteria, his eyes raked through the room with the focus of a laserbeam. It was thankfully pretty empty so it didn’t take too long for him to spot the noticeable head of silver hair in the corner…

Yuuri swallowed, a lump in his throat. He couldn’t see the man’s face too clearly but… it was him. It was definitely him. He’d spent the last decade or so of his life idolizing the man and there he was, less than 10 steps away from him. 

His heart was threatening to pound its way out of his chest and as much as he willed his feet forwards he remained rooted to the ground, his limbs turning to stone. Part of him wanted to simply run. Run far far away where he could save himself the shame of embarrassing himself in front of Victor. His brain was screaming opposing statements at him, the logical part urging him to move forwards and introduce himself to the man, while the other part screamed at him to take off and never speak of this again. 

Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he allowed himself to take a few deep breaths, silencing the yelling inside his head. He had to do this, he knew that. All he had to do was to put whatever happens into the hands of the universe and hope that he had accumulated enough good karma in his lifetime to survive this with his dignity and pride intact. 

Stepping forwards even though his feet felt like lead, he slowly moved to the corner he was at. His back was facing him, thankfully, so he couldn’t see the undoubtedly embarrassing display behind him. After what felt like an eternity, he reached his destination, the man’s back directly in front of him. Yuuri wasn’t sure if his short circuiting brain was imagining things but he could almost smell Victor’s cologne, a fresh clean scent reminiscent of the pine forests he visited with Phichit a few months ago. 

Swallowing his nerves, he stepped closer, clearing his throat. The other man turned around at the sound and…

And Yuuri was  _ gone. _

Bright blue eyes that he’d seen a million times before, now, slightly bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept in a while, looked directly at him. Yuuri’s breath caught in his chest as he tried to remember how to speak.    
  


“I...I…”

“It’s you.”

Yuuri’s heart stopped.

“You’re him,” the other man continued. “Yuuri Katsuki? From the video?”

“Ah... “ Yuuri’s mouth felt drier that it had ever been before. “That’s me.”

“Hi,” said Victor, standing up slowly. “I’m sorry about just showing up like this but-”

“No, its… it’s fine.” said Yuuri, trying to keep his breathing under control. Passing out in front of the literal man of his dreams was not an option right then. “Uh, y-you can sit down, if you want?” he said, flustered, eyes oddly focused on a spot of drywall behind the man.

“Alright,” smiled Victor warmly, sitting back down.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Or eat?”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he said, indicating the coffee already in front of him. “I ate on the plane.”

Ah right, a plane. A reminder that Victor fucking Nikiforov got on a goddamn plane from St. Petersburg to get to Detroit to find him. Well, his music, if he was being honest but same difference. “Ah, that’s good…” he said, throat painfully dry. “Was your flight ok?”

“Don’t get me started,” Victor grimaced, somehow still managing to look like a scene from a painting. “My flight got delayed by about three hours and I swear that airplane seats just get smaller and smaller each time. But I can’t complain, it was last minute, no?”

“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble, really. I- We could have just talked on Skype. This must have been really inconvenient for you.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” said Victor, stretching back a bit, making Yuuri’s breath catch in his throat. “It’s definitely not an inconvenience. Also, the change of scenery could be helpful,” he smiled wryly. “It usually does me good when I hit a wall, creatively I mean. You understand, I’m sure, as an artist yourself?”

 

“I guess?”

Victor smiled, eyes crinkling up at the corners and Yuuri felt his heart stop. That was it, that was the smile he’d been searching for his whole life. No sign of the polite blankness that the Victor on screen used to show, this was something else entirely.

Realizing that he was probably staring, Yuuri cleared his throat.

 

“So… um…” he began. “Why did you want to see me?”

 

“Well, I’m in the middle of planning my routines for next season. Basically I was hoping to ask if I could use your piece for one of them. You’re completely free to decline of course, but I thought I should try my luck, as it were.”

 

Yuuri could hardly believe his ears. “Y-You want to skate to my music?”

 

“Yes, if that’s alright with you. I can compensate you financially of course, money’s no object. Though if it’s not too much trouble I’d like to hear it again. Directly from you.”

 

… Was Victor Nikiforov asking to hear a live performance from him? 

 

“Uh, sure! But… Did you want to hear it now, or… I’m really sorry but it’s not really done yet and I don’t even have my violin with me and-”

“No, no don’t worry. I just wanted to introduce myself. I know this was really sudden but I thought I should meet you as quickly as I could. To get rid of any awkwardness.” he smiled. “Wouldn’t it be better working together as friends?”

Yuuri swallowed. ”Yeah, definitely.”

“Wonderful. Now, are you free tonight? I was hoping that we could grab dinner together. It’s the least I could do after showing up unannounced like this.”

“Dinner?” croaked Yuuri, hardly believing this was happening. “You want to take me to dinner?”

Victor blinked, “Only if you want to? I don’t want to forc-”

“No!” blurted out Yuuri. “I mean, yes I do want to. I was just… surprised? I’m sorry, I’m still a bit in shock.”

“It’s alright,” smiled Victor warmly. “It’s cute.”

D-Did Victor Nikiforov, world renowned figure skater and star of Yuuri’s deepest darkest fantasies for the past decade, just call him cute? Yuuri could practically feel his brain short circuiting, his mouth hanging open like a goldfish.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“No! It’s fine really! I just…. God I’m bad at this.” Taking a moment to breathe, Yuuri continued. “Ok, dinner today. Time?”

“How about 8? Or do you eat earlier?”

“No no, 8’s fine.”

“Perfect. I’ll leave it up to you to decide on a place. I’m not picky, don’t worry. Just text me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

“Alright but I don’t have your-” Yuuri started but Victor had already whipped out his phone, handing it to Yuuri.

“Just put your number in, I’ll text you once I work out my roaming plan.”

Yuuri tapped the digits in quickly, hoping Victor wouldn’t notice the way his fingers shook. He was holding Victor Nikiforov’s phone! The same phone he took selfies with, complete with a case modelled after one of his skating costumes. Yuuri remembered clearly how the forums he was on went crazy for weeks after he started using it. The memes were endless.

Handing it back, Victor pocketed it. “Perfect. Now, I’d stay and talk a little bit more but I haven’t slept in…” he began counting on his fingers. “Twenty five hours, I think? So I think I’m going to head back to my hotel for now. I hope you don’t think me rude but-”

“Of course not, please go get some rest!” cut in Yuuri hurriedly.

“I most certainly will.  It was very nice meeting you, Yuuri.” he said, walking towards the door. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

Before Yuuri could stop himself, his traitorous tongue replied, “It’s a date.”

Victor quirked an eyebrow. “Is it now?” he said, looking like he thoroughly enjoyed the way Yuuri turned beetroot red in the span of a second. “I’ll see you tonight. Bye!”

Rooted to the floor Yuuri watched as the door slowly closed. Plopping down on a nearby chair, Yuuri buried his face in his hands and groaned. Looking around him, the cafeteria looked exactly the same as it always was, ugly linoleum floor and all. The very idea that Victor Nikiforov had stood here, in front of Yuuri no less, seemed like one of those strange dreams Yuuri would have after eating too much extra spicy ramen before bed.

And yet, he was here and now Yuuri had an actual goddamn dinner date with the man. Eyes widening, he leaped out of his seat like he’d been shot. This was literally a scene from one of his more ridiculous fantasies and here he was acting like an idiot. He should be running home and getting ready, all the while praying that he had something decent to wear.

Grabbing his phone, he nearly sent the device tumbling to the floor as it rang abruptly. Looking at it, he squeaked as he read the short text from an unknown number.

“See you tonight ;) “

He was so so fucked.

 

* * *

 

 

Dressed in his least comfortable pair of jeans (that he knew made his ass look good) and a fitted sweater, Yuuri stood outside the only Japanese restaurant in the neighbourhood. He (and Phichit) had wracked their brains trying to figure out a good place to take Victor for dinner and finally decided on the hole in the wall noodle place down the street. It was definitely nowhere near as fancy as what Victor was undoubtedly used to but the food was almost as good as what his mom used to make for him and that in itself was a high complement.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Yuuri waited, bouncing on the balls on his feet. He was literally about to have dinner with the man of his dreams. Honestly, the whole situation felt beyond surreal like hadn’t really processed it yet. That was actually doing him a favor as his nerves were nowhere near as bad as they should be, temporarily numbed by the dreamlike state he was in. He’d declined Phichit’s suggestion to down a few shots before meeting him, needing all his mental faculties in place for now. 

After about five minutes, a cab pulled up nearby. Straightening his clothes and back, Yuuri took a deep breath, watching as Victor got out. He waved at him, catching the other man’s attention. Victor smiled, walking over. 

“Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

“No no, I just got here.”

“Perfect,” he smiled. “Well, shall we?” 

Yuuri led the way, opening the door to the tiny restaurant. “Hope you like noodles.”

“I do!” said Victor excitedly. “Excellent choice, Yuuri.”

Yuuri felt a warm flush creep up his neck at the praise. “T-Thank you.”

Choosing a small table in the corner, Yuuri sat down and Victor sat across him. A waitress came over with a pair of menus and lit a candle at the table, making Yuuri’s flush deepen. 

Clearing his throat, Yuuri said, “You can order anything you want, everything’s good here.”

“Oh, I can imagine. What’s your favorite?”

“Well, uh… I like their katsudon. My mom used to make it a lot for me back home in Japan.”

“Is it a noodle dish?”

“Ah no, it's like a breaded pork cutlet on rice with egg and stuff. It’s really good here so I’d recommend it if you don’t know what to pick.”

“Alright then!” beamed Victor. “I’ll take a katsudon too.”

“Great,” croaked Yuuri. 

After placing their orders, Victor started. “So, your piece. I must say Yuuri, I don’t think I’ve ever been taken by a piece of music like that before. What inspired you?”

“Uhh, well...” Yuuri trailed off. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t admit his borderline stalker like behavior to the man he was borderline stalking now could he?  

“Oh, but you don’t need to share if you don’t want to!” said Victor quickly, sensing Yuuri’s hesitance. “I know that kind of thing can be private. I was just curious.”

“No, it’s not a problem! I just don’t really know how to describe it, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Maybe I can help? Was it… nature maybe? A powerful landscape? The beauty of a crashing wave on the shore? Anything along those lines?”

“N-No not really.”

  
“Then maybe the sound of a child’s laughter?” asked Victor a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Definitely not.” laughed Yuuri

“Maybe something to do with a lover then?” said Victor and Yuuri was definitely NOT imagining the smirk on his lips.

Yuuri choked on air. “I.. I don’t think so. I don’t have one. A lover, that is.”

“Oh?” hummed Victor, finger steepled on his lips, they way he always did when he was thinking. “That’s surprising.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I just assumed. The piece had such passion in it, I wasn’t joking around with my last guess. It felt like you made it for somebody. Somebody you really care and long for.”

Yuuri tried to speak but no words would come. How could Victor have hit it right on the nail like that?

“I’m sorry, I’m just rambling.” said Victor, misreading Yuuri’s silence. “Anyway, you don’t need to share if you’re not comfortable, I don’t mind. I would love to be able to use it however, with your permission.”

“Of course,” said Yuuri. “I don’t know what I need to do to allow you do use it ‘legally’ but yeah, you have my permission. You don’t need to pay me either, I’m just honored that you’re using it.”

Victor’s mouth broke into a heart shaped smile. “Really? Thank you so much! And don’t be ridiculous, of course I’ll pay you. I’ll have my coach draw up a contract, he handles that kind of thing.”

“You really don’t need to-”

“Nope, I do.” said Victor firmly. “This was a deeply personal piece of your heart Yuuri. I’m not going to use it and give you nothing in return. It’s the least I could do.”

Yuuri tried offering another token protest but the look he got from Victor killed it in his mouth. “Ok then, if you’re sure.” he said, offering him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I can’t wait to see the routine you’ll come up with.”

“Ah, well,” said Victor, eyes shining with excitement. “I do have a few ideas but I don’t want to bore you with skating jargon or anything.”

“Impossible!” said Yuuri. “I used to skate actually. Won a few competitions when I was younger.”

“Really?” said Victor, surprised. “Why did you stop?”

“Ah well,” Yuuri went silent for a moment, his cheery mood dropping slightly. “I… got injured when I was 15. I had a bad fall and… well I never really recovered enough to skate that way again. So yeah.” he shrugged. “I switched to music, and well, here we are.”

“I see. I’m… sorry for bringing it up.”

“No no, it’s not a problem. It happened a long time ago and well, I’m hardly the first aspiring skater this has happened to.” he smiled weakly. “Though I should probably tell you that you were my favorite skater when I was a kid.”

“Ah, only then?” teased Victor. “No really, I’m flattered. I didn’t expect you to know who I was at all.”

“Of course I’d know you! You’re the greatest skater in the world!”

“So far,” quipped Victor. “Some of those juniors are getting a bit too skilled for my taste. Now I’m actually going to have to try to win.”

Yuuri laughed. “You’ll do it. You always be the best to me, at the very least.”

Victor smiled softly. “Thank you, Yuuri.” he said, his low tone intimate. “That means a lot.”

Yuuri flushed. “N-No problem,” he stammered, thankfully saved by the waitress carrying two bowls of katsudon to their table. 

“Ah, finally,” said Victor, eyes brightening at the sight of the steaming bowl in front of him. “I’m starving.”

“Tell me how you find it.”

Victor took a large bite, eyes fluttering shut.

“Vkusno!”

 

* * *

 

 

The night sped past and by the end of it Yuuri was on Cloud 9 itself. They ended up staying right up till closing time (much to the ire of everyone there). Somewhere along the way the nerves that had plagued him right up until that evening seemed to just fade away. He had to actually remind himself that he was talking to his longtime idol and not just one of his old friends. 

Victor was… god he couldn’t even describe him. He was simultaneously the man of his dreams while also being completely different from what he’d expected. He was still effortlessly beautiful and clearly devoted to his craft but at the same time he turned out to be an utter goofball who ordered too much katsudon but stubbornly insisted on finishing all of it, damn the consequences! He was also a dog enthusiast who practically fell out of his seat to look at the pictures of Vicchan Yuuri had on his phone (though to Yuuri’s own shame he did lie and say Vicchan was named Mochi in a panic, the moment he realized that he would have to admit he named his goddamn poodle after him). 

All in all, the night felt like a dream and Yuuri never wanted to wake up. Walking out of the restaurant into the cold Detroit night felt like a bucket of iced water in his face. He didn’t want to leave him so soon! Who knows if he’d ever get another chance to do this. 

“Hey,” he said, emboldened by the sake he and Victor ended up splurging a bit on. “If you want you can come over to my place.”

Victor blinked. “My, you’re forward, aren’t you?” he smirked.

Realizing what he’d just implied, Yuuri squeaked, slapping a palm over his mouth. “No not like that! I meant that I could play for you! My roommate isn’t there today so… I mean, if you want. I understand if you’re tired or anything.”

Victor hummed, “Why not. The night is still young isn’t it? And I’m very eager to hear you.”

“Perfect,” beamed Yuuri, heart fluttering. “It’s not a far walk, about twenty minutes-”

“Nonsense, I’ll call a cab.” said Victor whipping out his phone. “My treat.”

“Lazy,” teased Yuuri.

“I’m allowed to be!” insisted Victor, sticking his tongue out at him. 

Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh, his heart so light it felt like it would float out of his chest. This was it, this was everything he ever dreamed about. That ‘butterflies in your stomach’ feeling that seemed to only exist in movies turned out to be real after all. Only now it was joined by a feeling of comfort and warmth that he’d never experienced before. How could he be already so familiar with the man? He’d only just met him today and yet… it was like they’d known each other for years.

“Is there something on my face?” 

Yuuri started, realizing he’d been staring. “No no, I just zoned out!.”

Victor pouted. “Am I that boring?”

“No!” said Yuuri frantically, hurriedly apologizing causing Victor to break down into a burst of laughter. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, in between giggles. “You were just so cute, I couldn’t help myself. I can’t resist teasing you.”

“You’re mean!” 

“Hey, I’m giving you a free taxi ride!” said Victor, his fake seriousness impeded by the way the corners of his lips kept turning upwards.

“Yeah cause you’re lazy.”

“Now who’s being mean!”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before they arrived at Yuuri’s apartment. Switching on the lights, Yuuri sent a silent prayer that he’d cleaned up a bit yesterday.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” he said, closing the door. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s charming.”

“Wish my mom would see it like you do. You can sit anywhere you want, I’ll go grab my violin.”

“Take your time,” said Victor, settling down in Yuuri’s desk chair. “Oh wow,” he said, eyes falling on the walls. 

“Hm?” 

“I do enjoy your decorating choices.”

Yuuri’s heart came to an abrupt stop and his blood turned to ice in his veins. 

Fuck.

How could he have forgotten?

“Oh!” he said, running back, violin in hand. “I can explain!”

“Really now?” smirked Victor, swiveling in his direction. “So when you said you were a fan… I see you neglected to mention the extent of that exactly. Isn’t that poster of mine limited edition?”

“Please don’t,” mumbled Yuuri, wanting the floor to swallow him up. “I’m so sorry!”

“What on earth are you sorry for? I’m flattered Yuuri, really. I think it’s cute.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No really!” insisted Victor. “It is! How could I be mad at you for being a fan?”

“I don’t know! I just don’t want you to think of me as some crazy stalker or anything.”

“Don’t worry about that, I don’t,” smiled Victor reassuringly. “I think it’s really sweet of you to have supported me for this long.”

“I mean, of course I would. You deserve it.”

“I’m happy you think so. Now, enough of all that. Let’s hear this beautiful piece of yours.”

“Right,” said Yuuri, getting into position. “It’s not perfect yet but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” Victor smiled, tone encouraging.

Taking a deep breath, willing the incessant cry of all his anxious thoughts silent, Yuuri placed his bow on the taut strings. Closing his eyes, he let everything fall away, leaving him all alone in the dark.

Well, almost alone.

Victor remained, only now he was dressed as he was before, all in white, the colour long drained from him. He watched, his blue eyes now a washed out grey, matching every other part of him. Yuuri’s heart broke at the sight. It was almost unbearable in its familiarity, his expression a copy of the one Yuuri had seen far too many times in the mirror. Did no one else see?

The Victor sitting in front of him in real life… He seemed so different from the perfect but cold persona he displayed everywhere else, reflected in his mind. A prince of ice, beautiful but cold to the touch. And yet, earlier, he’d felt nothing but warmth and laughter coming from him.

His eyes were fixed on the Victor in his mind, skating through the familiar frozen landscape Yuuri kept seeing. But… maybe it was time to thaw the ice prince’s frozen heart a bit. Changing his piece almost effortlessly, Yuuri let the renewed melody flow from him, melting the icy blizzard surrounding the poor skater, letting the sun shine bright over everything, making the landscape glisten with reawakened life like the first seedlings breaking through the frost.

 

* * *

 

Victor watched as the boy slid his bow across the strings, his fingers moving across the neck effortlessly. Notes glided through the room,filling it with music so soft and gentle he felt his heart ache. He’d heard this song before, possibly more than a hundred times on the flight itself . And yet, each time it felt so brand new, slipping within his deepest parts and lighting them anew.

And Yuuri… He just took his breath away.

Victor was naturally impulsive, that much was certain. It was half the reason for Yakov’s abrupt hair-loss (the other half being  due to Victor’s stubborn streak) and if anything it just intensified with age. So it wasn’t all that surprising that he booked a ticket to Detroit without so much as a second glance the minute he heard Yuuri play. When later asked, he could never really explain why he did it, only that hearing the music that flowed from the boy’s violin moved him in a way few things had ever done. It was difficult to explain really. He’d heard beautiful pieces many times, often having trouble choosing his skating music because he couldn’t pick between two equally amazing compositions.

But this one… This was something else. It was like it was made specifically for him, the notes reaching into his chest and tugging at his heart alone. It was sad, but so full of longing Victor felt like every fibre of his being was screaming silently, for what he did not know. 

 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Yuuri, the boy now lost in his own world as he played, every inch of his heart infused into the song. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, the melody getting softer and kinder as it went on, the sadness from earlier still present but now tempered with sweetness. It was akin to travelling through a dark tunnel, only to emerge out into the sunshine once more, reborn anew with a new appreciation for the light.

 

Victor found himself standing up, his legs stepping closer to Yuuri as if on their own. He needed to be close to him, but he couldn’t explain why. Yuuri didn’t notice, eyes still shut as he played, lost in the symphony of his own making. 

 

As the song entered its close, each final note played so gently, Victor could hardly stand it, Yuuri opened his eyes. He gasped, seeing Victor standing so close, lowering his instrument as he got lost in his ice blue eyes.

 

“Victor,” he whispered. “You… you’re crying.”

 

“God, I…” Victor murmured, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I suppose I am. I don’t know what to say. That was beautiful, Yuuri.” 

 

“Victor,” gasped Yuuri again, tears now spilling down his cheeks. His violin dropped from his loosened grip, hitting the carpet with a soft thud. He barely heard it, unable to focus on anything but the man before him, cupping his cheek so tenderly he could hardly stand it. 

 

“How… How did you know? No  one could see,” Victor mumbled. “I don’t know what I’m saying but you just… you just knew, didn’t you?”

 

“I saw it, Victor,” said Yuuri, eyes fluttering shut as he simply let himself  _ feel.  _ “I could see because, well I felt the same.” His hand came up to stroke over Victor’s. “It hurts doesn’t it?”

 

“Very much so.” whispered Victor, pressing their foreheads close together. “It hurts a lot less now though.”

 

Yuuri laughed softly. “That’s true. Funny how that works.”

 

They stood in silence for a while, swaying to music only the two of them could hear. Victor’s hands moved sometime during then, migrating to Yuuri’s waist, while Yuuri’s own moved to Victor’s nape. His head rested on the other’s chest, simply listening to the sound of his heartbeat, letting their breaths sync up.

 

After a while Yuuri murmured into his chest, “What are we doing, Victor?”

 

“I don’t know,” said the other. “Do you want to stop?”

 

“Not on your life.” 

 

“Then I don’t see a problem.”

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile, looking up at him. “I must be dreaming.”

 

“Do you have such nice dreams often then?”

 

“Not really.” hummed Yuuri. “Usually they end with me failing exams or getting arrested for tax fraud.”

 

Victor chuckled. “I hope this doesn’t fall into those categories then.”

 

“I don’t think it will.”

 

Yuuri held still as Victor traced his thumb over his tear stained cheek. “If this were a dream, would you let me kiss you?”

 

Yuuri gasped softly, eyes fixed on Victor’s own. 

 

“Dream or no dream,” he murmured. “I would say yes to that each and every time.”

 

Victor smiled, a bright joyful thing. “Perfect,” he breathed, lips millimeters away from Yuuri’s own, before finally  _ finally  _ pressing them together. 

 

Yuuri’s eyes fluttered shut as he reveled in the feeling of Victor’s soft lips against his own. Their breaths mingled together, and Yuuri wanted nothing more than to remain like this for the rest of eternity and a day for good measure. 

 

Sadly, they had to draw apart, for breath if nothing else. “Wow,” said Yuuri, eyes sparkling. 

 

“You ok?”

 

“Yeah. It’s just a bit overwhelming,” he admitted. “That was my first kiss.”

 

Victor blinked. “Oh, fuck I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

 

“No, no don’t apologize,” said Yuuri hurriedly. “It was perfect.”

 

Victor smiled once again. “I’m glad.”

 

Yuuri hummed contentedly, “You really were the one I’ve been searching for, huh? Who’d have thought.” he mumbled, half high on endorphins. 

 

“The tabloids are gonna have a field day with this,” laughed Victor softly. 

 

“Hmmm, ‘Living Legend Victor Nikiforov kidnapped by obsessive skater fanboy’. I do like the sound of that.”

 

“Well of all the people to be kidnapped by. At least you’d give me clothes in my size which is already better than the ISU.”

 

Yuuri giggled. “You know, since I’ve waited so long to get my first kiss, I think I should take advantage of you now shouldn’t I? Gotta make up for lost time and all that.”

 

“What have you become, my dear Yuuri?” laughed Victor. “I’m afraid I’ve tainted your purity, set you on a wicked path to ruin!”

 

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

 

And so Victor did.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are appreciated and comments fuel me.
> 
>  Follow me on Twitter @[Philatoswrites](https://twitter.com/Philatoswrites) for writing updates and Tumblr for memes @[griffith-did-nothing-wrong](http://griffith-did-nothing-wrong.tumblr.com/)


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